The Healing Power of Gratitude

In loving memory of Rogelio Quintana.

Every now and then at noon I would enter his office and say:

“I didn’t bring lunch money today.”

Usually he was on the phone or doing something and his secretary was off during the noon hour, so I would just stroll in to his office.

“Okay,” he would say.

He would hand me a five dollar bill  (five bucks was the allotted amount each time). I took it each time and let myself out. I’d grab a sandwich and return to my job in an office near his.

Never did he question or ask me why. He just provided, and kept on doing whatever it was he was doing.

I’m talking about my father-in-law, who was much more a father figure than an in-law.

Not only did he provide me with lunch money every once in a while, but also he bought us our house, and many other things. He gave from small to big and everything in between.

He improved my life in every imaginable way.  He was our handyman. He took my oldest child to school for her first three school years. My father-in-law was our wing man for every financial decision we made. He was a major contributor on each home improvement project (he would always offer to split the bill on every major repair to our home). He pulled us through while my husband waited for a liver transplant eighteen years ago. I could go on and on.

Some time ago, a cousin told me that people whoare gifted things don’t appreciate them, that they need to work hard for them in order to really feel appreciation.

I disagree. I was given many things by this great guy and I appreciate them every day of my life.

Many years have passed since he became an important part of my life and today I lost him to cancer.  Facing this terrible disease hasn’t been easy for him or for our family.  During these times I tried to give something back to him, but still I feel that I could have done much more.  Nothing I did seemed enough.  I wanted to shout “thank you” each time I did something for him or my mother-in-law.

I’m happy in a sense because he didn’t enter that scary last stage of the disease where the only thing people talk about is the staggering pain their family members have experienced.

As the hospice nurse told me with a sympathetic voice,

“Nothing really alleviates the pain, it’s too much.”

He left before any of that happened.

Today as I said my goodbyes I felt overwhelmed with memories and with a bit of regret.  Wanting to do more…wanting to take back some things I said or did since that Christmas Eve in 1983 when my now-husband took me to his home and I experienced for the first time how a family should celebrate Christmas.

When everything was said and done,  I

He left before any of that happened.

Today as I said my goodbyes I felt overwhelmed with memories and with a bit of regret.  Wanting to do more…wanting to take back some things I said or did since that Christmas Eve in 1983 when my today husband took me to his home and I experienced for the first time how a family should celebrate Christmas.

When everything was said and done,  I  could only quietly whisper:

“Thank you for everything Dad. I couldn’t have wished for a better father.”

Read more from Maritza Martinez on her blog, Believing.